Nothing Can Break Us: A Newsies Story
by Wishes Of A Dying Giant
Summary: Cinnamon is moving to Denton High School on a scholarship, and she's not excited. She expects it to be another friendless, boring year at another stupid school. She has never been more wrong. Especially when she runs into the school newspaper club members who the students call the "Newsies." (Modern AU, if you didn't figure it out already. :D ) Cover art by @cherlosity on Tumblr!
1. Chapter 1: CINNAMON

**Hey, people! I'm not dead.**

**So anyway, here's an AU story I've been working on. Hope you enjoy, and if you don't… love has failed me (Anyone get the reference?). **

**:-D**

CINNAMON

"Cassie! Time to go!" My mom calls from the doorway as I toss my last T-shirt into my luggage. I heave a sigh. I still have to pack my headphones.

"I know Mom!" I yell back. I yank my blue headphones out from under the bed (how did those even get _down_ there?) and shove them into an empty corner of my bag. I step back, attempting to admire my handiwork but failing. The sight that blesses my vision is a large, black duffel bag filled to overflowing with books, clothes, and a bunch of other things I can't remember. Will I even be able to carry this thing? Counting everything on my fingers, I make sure that I have everything. Headphones? Check. Phone? Check. Clothing? Check, but I'll probably buy some when I get to the school. Violin? Check. Mom tried to discourage me from bringing it. Said it would be too much to carry, but there is NO WAY I am giving up my pride and joy, even for four months.

"CASSIDY! We need to go!" Mom shouts back. I make haste in zipping up my bag. Mom only ever uses my full name when it's serious.

"Coming Mom!" I scream as I lug the bag out the door of our small apartment. I drop the bag and turn to look at our apartment one last time. I blow a large raspberry at the room as I kick the door shut and move towards the elevator. I'm not really going to miss that shoebox of a home anyway.

Going down the elevator, I remember that it's the end of summer. I sigh. I always look forward to summer during the school year. I never had many friends; no one at school really shared my interests. I mean, who would want to be friends with the geeky girl that listens to musicals and the Beatles while reading in the corner?

Shaking the negative thoughts out of my head, I walk through the lobby and out the door, where my mom's car awaits. I climb into the shotgun seat as Mom slides into the driver's seat.

"You ready, Cassie?" Mom asks me, her eyes full of hope.

"You bet, Mom," I reply, my eyes already on the road. I put my headphones over my dark, reddish-brown curls and "More Than Survive" from Be More Chill greets me like a pat on the back. Ironically, how Jeremy feels over the course of the song reflects almost exactly how I feel right now. I sigh, wishing that this would be a good start to a good year.

About two hours later, we finally arrive at my new high school. WOW. It looked big on the brochure, but THIS? There must be about three billion classrooms in there.

"This school is enormous," Mom exclaims, voicing my very thoughts. As she parks, I put away the book I was reading, push my headphones down around my neck and prepare to get out of the car. Once I'm out, I yank my bag out of the trunk with all my force, but can't seem to get it off the pavement once it's out.

"A little help, Mom?" I grunt, dragging the bag a few inches towards the entry of the school. Seeing my struggle, Mom rushes quickly to my aid and, in not much time at all, we find ourselves before the school doors.

"You ready?" Mom asks as she deposits the bag into my arms.

"Absolutely," I reply, hiding the fact that I am really struggling with this bag in my arms.

I look up at Mom again and see that she's about to cry.

"No, Mom, don't cry. You know I don't like it when you cry," I say quickly, doing my best to calm her. "After all, I'm going to see you again in six weeks, right?"

"Right," she whispers, more self-consolation than an answer. Suddenly, she hugs me, and although I can't hug her back, I rest my head on her shoulder.

" I love you, Cassie," she whispers into my ear.

"I love you too, Mom," I say back as she pulls away and starts toward the car.

As she drives away, I can faintly hear her screaming her goodbyes to me. Quietly, I stand there, taking in the moment. Then I feel something run into me from behind and I tumble forwards as my bag falls out of my hands. Just as I'm about to hit the ground, my head bounces off the bag, and then bangs onto the concrete. The momentum from the bounce makes me roll over, my eyes seeing nothing but sky. The last thing I see before I'm out is a pair of electric blue orbs peering down at me from a mass of curly blond hair.

My vision has gone fuzzy.

What the heck just happened?

As my vision clears, I notice that I'm lying down on someone's bed. Out of the corner of my right eye, I can see a figure sitting down by the bed, watching me.

"What the -?" I mutter as I sit up quickly, which wasn't a good idea, since my head starts throbbing like hell.

"Whoa there!" The boy exclaims as he gently grabs me by the shoulders and carefully pushes me back into a mass of pillows that seems to have appeared out of nowhere. "Relax. I'm not gonna hurt you or anything." As I get a second look at the boy, I recognize the electric blue orbs from before I lost consciousness. They were his eyes. The boy walks across the room, which is painted a light blue.

It takes me a few moments to formulate the three syllable sentence that popped out of my mouth next: "...Who... are you?"

He answers without missing a single beat: "Anthony Higgins, but everyone calls me Racetrack. Race for short."

"You've got two nicknames?"

"Anthony was too proper, Racetrack was too long. So. Race." He has a New York accent, like me, but much stronger. I don't understand why it took me so long to notice it.

"You have an accent," I remark stupidly. Race stops and turns to me, an incredulous look on his face.

"Oh rEAlly? I DIDN'T nOTICE," he retorts in mock surprise before sticking his tongue out and returning to the bedside.

"You new here?" he asks. I nod. "Welcome to Denton." He does jazz hands as he says this, and I smile.

We bathe in awkward silence for a minute or two before he asks, "So... what's your name?" Before I get a chance to even open my mouth, he blurts, "Wait, no. Don't tell me. I'll let the boys name you."

"The boys? What boys?" All this talk is starting to confuse me.

"You'll meet them soon enough," Race says matter-of-factly. After a while, he pipes up again. "So, you're new? How old are you? I'm s"

"I'm fifteen," I reply.

After a quick pause, Race answers, "So you're a sophomore, huh?"

"Actually, I'm a junior. I started school a year earlier than most people."

It seemed as if it took Race a minute to compute this.

While he's silent, I blurt out, "I've never seen anyone with such vibrant eyes before."

Race glances up at me in slight surprise. I cover my face with my hands, embarrassed at what I just said.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what just went through me when I said that, I just –"

"Thank you," Race says quietly. His eyes wouldn't meet mine.

"I'm sorry," I squeak.

"There's nothing to be sorry about, love," he smiles as he looks up at me.

I blush slightly, bowing my head so he doesn't see. "Ain't nobody called me 'love' before."

Race laughs softly. "Old habit I could never get rid of. Well, there's a first time for everything, I guess." He looks back down. "Anyway, it's just that I don't get complemented much."

"Why not?" I ask. He only shrugs in return.

After a beat, he pops up, his energy back to normal. "So, once you're feeling better, how's about I show you around? I mean, you'll be okay by tomorrow morning and we have tomorrow off before school starts Monday…" Race looks at me. "How's that sound for you, love?" I blush again, and he smirks.

"So?" he asks smugly. "What's it gonna be?"

After a moment's thought, I say, "Okay." I try to swing my legs off the bed to get up, but a blinding pain rushes through my brain and I yelp, clapping my hand to my head.

"Easy, Curly," Race exclaims as he rushes to me and moves me back on the bed. "You may feel better, but you still need to rest. Trust me, I've been here before." He gently pulls my hand away from my forehead. His hand is warm, and as his shirtsleeve falls slightly, I can spot a small skin-colored patch on his forearm. _Remember to ask him about that later_, I think. He holds up a finger. "I'll be back. Don't do anything I would do. In other words, don't do anything stupid." And with that he jogs toward the door and disappears through it.

With Race out of the room, I have time to absorb everything that just happened. So. It seems I hit my head, and all of a sudden this cute boy with electric eyes has brought me to his room and is nursing me? And he's calling me _love_?

This is probably the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me by far.

To pass time, I try to take in as much as I can of the room. There's another bed next to his, and it's perfectly made. The walls are adorned with pictures of him and a bunch of other boys. In almost all of the pictures, I can see a boy with a head of flaming red hair. In some of the pictures, I can just make out the outline of a skin-colored patch on Race's arm.

"I'm back," Race declares as he cruises into the room with an ice pack. I jump slightly at his arrival. "Here," he says as he presses the ice pack to my forehead. I smile as a thank you and hold the ice pack to my head.

"So," I begin as he sits, cross-legged, on the bed facing me. "I have some questions, if you don't mind."

"Shoot," he said.

"First of all, what's the sticker for?" I grab his arm and pull up his sleeve, revealing the patch.

"Oh, this," he says as he fiddles with it. "It's a nicotine patch." Seeing my curious expression, he adds, "It's a long story. I'll tell you when we have the time."

"Next, who's the redhead in your pictures?" I ask.

"That's Albert," he answers.

"What, he ain't got a nickname?" I quip.

"No, not for Albert. The boys tried to call him Red, but he wouldn't have it." He laughs. "Anyway, he's my roommate, and he's flipping amazing."

Now it's my turn to laugh. "He's not here yet, is he?"

"Another no," he replies. Then it seems that he has an idea, because he grabs my arm and says, "Hey, why don't you spend the night in here? I mean, you're in no condition to walk to… wherever your dorm is, and Albert's bed is empty."

"But is he gonna be mad if he sees that the bed is a mess?"

"Oh, he's not gonna know. I'm weirdly good at making beds."

_**End of Chapter 1**_


	2. Q&A (Questions by Junebug)

To answer some questions:

_Is Cinnamon at a boarding school?_

Yes, she is. FUN FACT: I named it after the reporter Denton from the 1992 Newsies movie.

_Can you please cameo people from other musicals? (Wicked or Dear Evan Hansen would be appreciated!)_

That sounds like a fun idea!

_So… nobody is worried about a girl sleeping in a strange boy's dorm?_

Chapter 2 explains it a little. Honestly, I didn't think of it all that much, heh… I guess there's a rational explanation for it. I guess Race knew Cinnamon/Cassie would be uncomfortable sleeping in the same room as him, so perhaps he switched rooms? Don't worry, I'll fix that plot hole J

_Great, now I'm curious about the patch. (I really hope you're trying to help Race recover from his addiction!)_

To explain why he has it, when he was about 12 years old, he would hang out with the wrong crowd, and that got him into smoking. Since he was more oblivious to the dangers of it, he kept smoking. Once he figured out what it could do to your health, which is about a year and a half before the story, so like when he's 14 or 15, he tried to stop. Since it was too hard for him to just cut nicotine out of his system all at once, he's using nicotine patches to get through it. Although he started with a full-strength patch, Race is progressing using weaker and weaker strength patches as time goes on. When Cinnamon arrives, and the story begins, he's on one of the lowest-strength patches, and eventually he's not going to need them at all!


	3. Chapter 2 Part 1: CINNAMON

**Hey!**

**So, I'm probably not going to be updating as much as I used to, with school and all. However, I am going to try my best to update as much as I can. Unfortunately, this chapter is not very long, but I'll be making longer ones in the future. Anyway, this chapter is probably going to be a 2-parter (hopefully).**

CINNAMON

_I'm_ _tired._

I squint as the sun shines into my eyes. I roll over in the bed, making eye contact with a pair of blue eyes. For a moment, I can't remember anything. Where am I? Who is this guy looking at me? Then it all comes back, and I smile groggily.

"'Morning, Race," I mumble. Race smiles back. He's changed out of his clothes from yesterday, and he's wearing a plain t-shirt and sweats. I had also changed out of my clothes last night in exchange for a tank top and sweats.

He smiles back. "Good morning, love."

I sit up and swat at him. "Staaaaaaaaahp."

He leans forward. "Stop doing what, love?"

"That," I say. Race's eyebrows move upwards in a question. "Calling me _love_, Race. It makes me blush."

He stands up from his bed that he was sitting on and walks to the bed I'm currently in. "Well, if it makes you blush, I'm going to keep on doing it," he says as he sits on the corner of my bed. "Can you lean forward for me?"

"Uhhh… okay," I agree as I lean forward. A few seconds later, he tells me to lean back up again. As I do so, I feel a fluffy pillow at my back.

"Thanks, Race," I smile gratefully.

"No problem," he replies. "Is your head better?" I nod. Race smiles. "Good." Race smiles and places his hand on my shoulder.

"What the _hell_, Higgins?!"

I looked over at the direction of the voice and see the redhead guy from the picture, and his face is a mixture of confused and angry.

"What. The. Hell. Higgins." He repeats again as he practically stomps over to the bed I'm in.

"…Hey Albert," Race says, a little sheepishly. Albert only glares in return.

"It's only been _one night_ and you've already –" Albert splutters, and as he gestures wildly between me and Race, Race stands up quickly, waving his hands in protest.

"Oh god, Albert, nooooooo," Race blurts out. "It's not like that, not at all." He turns to me. "No offense, Curly."

"None taken," I reply. He turns back to Albert. "Albert, we're not… doing that."

Albert gestures to me, significantly less wildly this time. "So what's she doing here?"

He gestured to me. "She hit her head hard yesterday. And I mean, _hard_. I was nearby, so I brought her in here. I don't know her name yet."

"Hey, Albert," I say. He nods at me in return.

"So," Albert begins. "You don't know her name?"

"Not yet," Race replies. Albert nods again.

_He doesn't seem to talk much_, I think.

"I'm going to get some breakfast, I'm hungry," Albert says after a second of silence. "Do you and your friend want to come with me? Most of the others are already here."

"Sounds great, Al, I'll be there in a minute," Race replies.

"Sure thing, Racer," Albert smiles. It takes me by surprise, since the entire time since he stormed in the room he's been pretty frustrated. He looks at me. "Nice meeting you, new kid. Welcome to Denton." And with that, he leaves the room.

Race looks at me once Albert is gone. "Yeah, he's a little stoic at times." He pauses. "Hey, this seems a little forward or whatever, but can I get your number?" He sees the slight look on my face of _I hope he's not hitting on me or something _and quickly adds, "It's not that, you just seem nice." He smiles a little nervously.

I smile back. "Okay."


	4. Chapter 2 Part 2: RACE

**Ok, here's Part 2 of Chapter 2 for y'all! ****J**

RACE

I look down at the new number added in my contacts. The girl – Curly, for now, I guess- looks down at it too. I see her mouth moving, but I can't hear her. "Huh?"

"Uh, I was just asking what name we should put the contact under." She scratches behind her ear. I notice she has a dusting of freckles on her skin. It almost looks like someone dusted her with cinnamon powder. I haven't seen many dark-skinned people with freckles before, so this is new. I mean, I haven't seen many people that look like _her_, for one. I mean, she has skin that's a really nice tan color, basically the curly version of a pixie cut, and freckles _everywhere_. And she's not that bad looking either…

_Shut up, Race_, I think to myself as I scratch at the nicotine patch on my forearm. _Just stop. _Looking back down at the cell phone, I click the name section.

Curly reaches for the phone. "Maybe I'll just write my first initial. How does that sound?" I nod. Sounds like a good idea.

I hand her the phone, and I peer over her shoulder as she pokes at the keyboard. Once she does that, she hands it back to me. Over her number is the letter C.

"Thanks, love," I say as I shut off my phone. She looks down, and I see a shade of pink coloring her cheeks.

I smirk. "I made you blush again."

Curly elbows me and she blushes even harder. "No you didn't!" I start laughing, which in turn makes her laugh. She has a nice laugh, too.

After our laughing fit is over, I stand up. "You may want to change. Breakfast just started, and I don't think we want to miss the good stuff."

She stands up. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan."

I show her to the bathroom so she can change, and she closes the door, I begin to change myself. It only takes about a minute. I don't shower because I save that for the nighttime. Most people think I'm crazy for doing that, but then again, who am I to care what other people think?

I yawn and stretch my arms. I wince. I _really_ need to stretch.

When Curly walks out of the bathroom, she stops in her tracks and her jaw practically drops to the floor. If I have to tell the truth, her face is priceless.

"What are you doing Race? Are you possessed?" She runs over to me. I'm in the middle of the floor doing a full splits.

"No, I'm not possessed, kid," I reply calmly as I shift over to a split on the other side. She blinks in confusion, and I laugh. "It's called flexibility, Curly. It's what you need if you're a dancer."

She blinks again as I move into a pike and touch my toes without any problem. "You're a dancer?"

I pop up from my pike and stretch my neck. "Yep. 'S the only thing that keeps me sane, really."

I wait for Curly to laugh at me, like a lot of people did when I told them that I dance. Instead, I hear a "Cool! It's probably not half as epic, but I play violin."

I turn to her. "That's really cool too. You should play for me sometime. I'm sure you're great."

"Thanks," she replies as she smiles shyly at the ground.

I check the time. "Holy cannoli, we should probably head to the mess hall around now if we want to eat a good breakfast."

She nods. " 'Mkay." She gestures to her bags that are in the corner of my room. "Would you mind if I stopped by later to pick these up?"

"Sure you can, Curly," I reply. I walk over to the door and open it. "Ready?"

The girl nods, then walks out the door. A rogue sunbeam hits her face as she moves, accentuating her freckles even more. I can't get the image of cinnamon out of my head.

Then it hits me.

_Cinnamon_.

I briefly itch my patch, then I follow the girl – Cinnamon - out the door.


	5. Chapter 3: CINNAMON

**Hello! Hope you all had a happy Halloween! Anyway, without further ado, here's the chapter! (By the way, see if you can find the musical Easter Egg/cameo I planted in here!)**

CINNAMON

This school is biiiiiig.

I follow Race out the door and down the hallway. Within a few seconds I'm lost all over again. I spin around, looking in vain for Race's and Albert's room.

"You okay, Curly?" I hear Race ask.

I shrug. "Yeah, I'm just freaked by how big this school is. I can't even remember where your room is, and basically no time has passed since we left it."

He laughs. "Yeah, it does that sometimes. It was like that for me too when I first came here. Don't worry, you'll get used to it. _Love_," he adds as he winks.

Great. Now I'm blushing again.

I punch him lightly in the arm. "Someday I'll get immune to that, I swear."

We walk for a while in silence. The halls look so squeaky clean I can practically smell it. After a while Race speaks up.

"Weird question, but why did you trust me about us sleeping in the same room together?"

I look at him and chuckle. "Ha, I didn't really think of that. I guess it was because you were so nice to me, and… I just didn't think. Why do you ask?"

He looks down, and then looks back at me. "Well, I've had a… reputation for not always making the greatest decisions." He itches his nicotine patch.

I'm baffled. "But why? You're so nice. I don't understand why anyone would dislike you."

He shrugs and gives no answer. We keep walking.

After a minute, even Race loses his way.

"That's it," Race mutters, dropping his arms to his sides. "We're lost. God damn."

"It's okay," I say reassuringly. "We can always ask for directions." I point over to three boys sitting on a bench in the corner of the hallway. We walk up to them. Two of them, one in a striped shirt and the other in a black hoodie, are laughing at something one is showing the other on his phone. The third guy is absorbed in his computer. From what I can recognize from the reflection in his glasses and my two years in Coding Club at my old school, it looks like Python programming.

Race and I walk up to them. "Uh, hello," I say awkwardly. The guy in the hoodie looks up, his long hair covering one eye. I can see him toying with a fidget cube in one hand. He nudges the boy in the striped shirt, whispering, "_Psst. Evan_." The striped shirt kid, apparently named Evan, looks up, and I can sense the nervousness in his eyes. Immediately he scoots closer to the hoodie guy and crosses his arms tightly across his chest. The computer kid doesn't acknowledge anything.

"Hello," I repeat again. "We're a little lost. Do you know how to get to the cafeteria?"

Evan opens his mouth, hesitates and closes it. He then does this again, and again. He goes on like this, mouth opening and closing like a fish. His eyes are filling with tears. Eventually, he looks down and scoots even closer to Hoodie kid, who pats him on the arm and inhales sharply, almost to calm himself. Hoodie kid looks up, and then says, "Excuse me for a moment," and leads Evan away. After they have a small private conversation, they both sit back down, Evan looking significantly less puffy eyed than he did before.

"Sorry about that," Hoodie kid said. Evan offered a shy smile, but it quickly disappeared before he became absorbed in his phone again, this time seeming more like a defense mechanism than out of interest. Hoodie kid points to himself: "I'm Connor. This is Evan." He points to Evan, who looks up briefly. "And this –" Connor gestures to Computer kid – "is Jared." Jared takes no notice.

"I'm Race," Race says back. "This is Curly. She's new."

"…Nice to meet you," comes a light and quiet voice. This voice is from Evan, who has looked up from his phone. "I'm Evan Mark Hansen. I mean, uh, I'm Mark Evan Hansen. I hope it's not too weird that people call me by my middle name. I just like it better that way." He pauses, then halfheartedly adds, "Hey, you know that if you put my initials together, it spells "meh"? Cool right?" He smiles, genuinely, but then becomes self-conscious again, wrapping his hands around himself again, but still smiling.

Connor smiles too, feeling a rather long scab on his neck. "Anyway, you said you wanted directions?"


	6. Chapter 4: CINNAMON

**Hey, happy 2020 guys!**

**I know I haven't been active these past few months, it's just I had a lot of schoolwork to do, and it was just all so much.**

**Anyway, happy reading!**

CINNAMON

Eventually, we come across the cafeteria. "Woah," I gape as we walk into the huge room.

Just like everything else in the school, it's as clean as anything I've ever seen. Race looks at my bewildered expression and laughs.

"What, you ain't never seen a cafeteria before?" Race teases, then waves me into the room. I step out of the doorway and hear faint talking.

After having spent way too long picking out cereal from the ample selections there, I join Race in standing in the middle of the cafeteria. He's not doing anything, just squinting slightly. I stand on my toes and peer around the room. "What are you looking for?" I ask.

He looks at me. "I'm not looking, I'm listening." After a while, we hear a loud crash coming from the corner of the cafeteria, followed by much shouting and a few obscenities. Race, somewhat ashamed, points in that direction. "That should be them," he says sheepishly, chuckling slightly.

We walk over to the corner, where we find a boy of about seventeen with messy dark hair sprawled on the floor as if he had just fallen from a chair. Judging by the sound we had heard a short time before, he was probably the cause of it. The boy's clothes and face are spattered with a dark blue liquid, and an empty cup with traces of the same liquid is beside him. However, he's laughing his head off.

A tall figure of about the same age is standing over the first boy, chewing him out. From under the commotion coming from the table, I could hear the words "What in the name?!" and "Paint water". The boy has neat hair tucked under a newsboy cap and he has his hands on his hips as if he were scolding a small child that had touched something he wasn't supposed to.

Next to the tall boy, there's a girl. She seems a little older than these two. With one hand she's clutching the corner of the cafeteria table, doubled over in laughter. Behind her, an array of other kids – mostly boys, I observe – display a wide range of emotions: some are laughing so hard tears are streaming down their faces, some are shocked and have their hands on their mouths.

Race steps up to the boy covered in paint water and laughs down at him as I follow him. "What the hell did you do now, Jack?" Race asks, half seriously.

I offer my hand to Jack and help him up. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jack responds, trying to brush the water off his shirt like he would to dust bunnies. The smell of the paint just grows stronger as he casually, then somewhat frantically tries to wipe down his shirt. Noticing me watching him, he flashes a quick smile.

"Sorry, but I'm pretty sure that'll just rub in the stain more."

He looks at me, then the shirt, a look of slight disappointment on his face. "Yeah, I knew that." He wipes his hand on his pants, then offers it to me. "Jack Kelly."

"Nice to meet you, Jack," I say in return. Jack smiles again. He really is charming, I think to myself.

Jack turns around to the boy with the neat hair and pats him on the shoulder. The boy with the neat hair shrugs away from him.

"Jack, you have paint water on your hands, and this is a new shirt. You should –"

"Aw, lay off it Davey, just relax, okay?" Jack replies, wiping his hands again before putting one on Davey's shoulder. "Just relax," he says again, a bit softer this time. Davey inhales and I can see his shoulders relax a little. He looks at me and offers a quick, tight-lipped smile.

Race walks up to him. "Kid, this is Davey. Davey, meet the new girl."

Davey walks up to me. He's a lot taller than he looked a second ago. He just offers a simple "Hi."

Race plops down on the bench next to Albert, who's already shoving spoonfuls of Lucky Charms into his mouth, and, seeing I didn't take a seat right away, pats the empty space next to him. "Sit, sit."

I sit down and shift in my seat. I turn around to where the paint water incident just occurred, and I see the girl kiss Jack and walk over to the other side of the table as Jack turns beet red with a goofy grin on his face. Race taps me on the shoulder, then points to the girl.

"I didn't get a chance to introduce you to her. That's Katherine, and Jack's girlfriend. Honestly, I don't know how they became a thing. She's so smart, and he's – well," Race says, turning to the corner of the table where Jack now sat, trying to catch a piece of fruit in his mouth and nearly choking in the process, then turning back to me with a grimace on his face. "Well, he's _Jack_."

I chuckle as Race turns his attention to Albert, then feel something metallic hit my back.

"Sorry about that," someone says, probably the person who hit me with that thing.

Abruptly, I turn around to find myself face to face with a metal crutch. Upon looking up, I'm almost blinded by a smile.

"Sorry – again," the boy says. He sticks out his hand. "I haven't seen you around before. You must be new." He has an accent too, although it's much more subtle than Race's. "I'm Charlie, but most everyone calls me Crutchie."

As I shake his hand, I remark, "That doesn't sound very nice."

He shrugs. "I'm alright with it. It's better than the other names people call me. Besides, I like Crutchie better than Charlie."

"Why?" I ask.

His face twists into a thoughtful expression. "Dunno. I guess… well, in the world there are a million Charlies. Common name. Crutchie, however…" he smiles, almost to himself. He points to the open spot near me. "Someone already sitting here?"

"Nah," I say, and I take his crutch as he sits down. He smiles again, and I can't help but smile back.

I hear Race over my shoulder. "Hey, Crutchie, good to see you again!" He reaches across me and slaps him on the back.

Crutchie smiles, rather sheepishly. "Hello Race."

I laugh. "Does everyone have a nickname here?"

"Pretty much," Race responds as he finishes off his cereal. "I've even thought of one for you."

I blink. "Already? What is it?" Crutchie looks curiously between us two.

"You can tell me if you don't like it," he says, glancing at the ground.

"It's okay, I want to hear it," I insist lightly.

"…Kid, I was thinking about Cinnamon," he says. He looks at the ground again, for longer this time. "…Like I said, if you don't like it –"

"No," I cut in. "I think it's nice. I don't know how you got this accurate, actually."

He looks up. "Huh?"

"This is going to sound crazy, but… I actually put cinnamon on just about everything."

A long silence. Then, laughter from Crutchie. "You really got it on the nose, didn't you?" he laughed. Race looked down, blushing.

"Cinnamon," I say, testing how it rolls off the tongue. "_Cinn_amon." I shrug. "I like it better than my real name."

"What's your real name?" Crutchie asks.

"It's Cassidy," I say, cringing. "My friends would call me Cassie – so, really that means that not many people called me that." I laugh in spite of myself.

Crutchie chuckles. "Sheesh." As I finish off my bowl of cereal, the bell rings.  
Crutchie points to the door. "That's the orientation bell." He smiles, and I notice it's a bit crooked. It's okay though, it suits him. He sticks out his hand again. "Well, Cinnamon –" I laugh a little, and his smile grows bigger –"-It was nice meeting you." I take his hand and shake it; it's calloused and warm. It's a strange feeling, but a nice one. He gets up with less difficulty than he had sitting down. "See you in a second?"

"See you in a second," I reply as he walks away. I feel a slap on my back. It's Race.

"C'mon kid, we'd better get to orientation or the principal's going to feed you to his vintage printing press."


End file.
